


Triple Knockout

by RokettoMusashi



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alola-chihou | Alola Region (Pokemon), F/M, Gen, I wrote this for me but you can read it too, Sickfic, Whump, anyways just read the fic, but then the humans decided to fuck idk what happened, i wanted them to annoy each other a little, james is so cranky in this but i like when he's kind of a brat sue me, look sometimes you're sick and you just need some tlc and by tlc i mean hot spring fingering, more hurt than comfort xD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RokettoMusashi/pseuds/RokettoMusashi
Summary: Evil takes a sick day.
Relationships: Kojirou | James & Musashi | Jessie & Rocket-dan Nyarth | Team Rocket Meowth, Kojirou | James/Musashi | Jessie
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Triple Knockout

**Author's Note:**

> there were a bunch of prompts floating around whumpblr like "domestic sickfic but the couple annoys the shit out of each other instead of it being cutesy" and i was like "oh rockets?"
> 
> i actually used... so many various prompts i've seen floating around in this one. whats the protocol on that? let me know if you want me to link your idea, person reading this xD
> 
> i have a bunch more sickfics planned. literally all of them are stupid contagion ones too. its a weird time to be a sickfic writer but here i am.

The sound James’ forehead made upon contact with the dirt surrounding him like walls was inaudible, but the force of the motion filled his teammates’ heads with one regardless. He stayed there for a moment, slumped over his shovel in an attempt to catch his breath. The heat of Alola, normally so kind on his skin, swam around him like an inescapable miasma, its air scraping across his throat as though he were swallowing fire. He gave a weak sniffle beneath the veil of his hair.

Jessie noticed—she always did—and wasted no time lightly shoving him off-balance, a complaint on her tongue for every scenario.

“Quit _slacking_ ,” she scolded, the lilt in her voice buried beneath a pronounced congestion. “We’ve only so many hours in the day, and those twerps are bound to pass through here on their little field trip any second now.”

“Why are we back to pitfalls, Jessie?” James whined in response. “Didn’t we all agree as a team they were due for retirement?”

She kicked her own shovel back into the dirt before the glazed look she’d been doppling in and out of all morning crossed her face again. She stopped for a moment to blink it away, sniffling unproductively herself. 

“Because I don’t particularly _feel_ like thinking up an over-complicated strategy today.”

“And I don’t feel like an upper-body workout!” he said. “Everything hurts! I want to go back to bed!”

“We _all_ want to go back to bed, James! Welcome to adult life!”

Desperate, he turned to the side, where their third was half-heartedly digging.

“Meowth, can’t you talk some sense into her?”

“Hey, leave me outta dis, Jimmy,” he said, not meeting the man’s eyes. “Ain’t my fault you two idiots got each uddah sick!”

“Jessie got _me_ sick!” he objected. “You know as well as I she refuses to keep her germs to herself!”

“It’d do you well to learn how an incubation period works and accept the inevitability of the domestic living you’ve chosen, James dear,” Jessie said, feeling less and less like shouting as the minutes passed.

“You only use your nursing school dropout drivel to win arguments!” he moaned, slowly sinking to the forest floor. “Why not even out the ratios by putting me on some honest bedrest?”

“ _Evil_ doesn’t—” she cut herself off midway when the haze in her eyes returned, a round of shuddered breaths leading her into an ill-timed sneeze. She caught herself against the soil, leaning on it as she doubled over sharply.

“... _take_ sick days,” Jessie finished, blinking blearily upwards and sounding even worse than she had a moment ago.

James had more to say to that, hands clinging to the handle of his shovel, now taller than him as he remained sunken down. His whole face felt tight and bursting, every errant swallow like razor blades down to his core. Talking was an investment, and he had a historical lack of finesse when it came to those. Instead, he muttered off to the side.

“I sincerely doubt the twerps are going to find your runny nose intimidating…”

“Hey, chin up, pal,” Meowth said with a grin. “Bewear’s eventually gonna figure out we’s pulled da ol’ decoy robot runaround on ‘er again, ‘n’ you know she ain’t gonna let you pair o’ sickos leave base ‘til ya right as rain.”

“Which is _exactly_ why we need to make use of our time,” Jessie wrapped the conversation back around. “It was troublesome enough getting away from _helicopter mom_ , I plan to make it worthwhile!”

“An awful lot of ‘I’ in that sentence for someone who’s roped her team into this treacherous plan,” James mumbled, voice losing its normal luster.

If Jessie was being honest with herself, she could’ve gone in circles with him for hours, but her aching throat wasn’t having it and she was intent to spend the time crunch in far more productive ways. 

“We’re the terrifically tenacious Team Rocket,” she reminded him. “And as long as _one_ of us is healthy, the other two owe it to them to stay up to standard.”

She meant that, genuinely, and James didn’t have an argument in the wake of her strange blend of honesty. Though it wasn’t the first time they’d all been hit with some sort of virus, it _was_ a bit of an uncommon situation. Jessie took ill fairly often but bounced back quickly, and James’ own immunity was steeled to most things from years of various poisons deciding their favourite place to be was _in_ him and nowhere else. Once in a blue moon, however, they’d find themselves all down with the same thing at once—usually, it came on in perfect sync, never a bug passed around—and on those rare occasions, their single-minded de-facto leader _would_ allow the boys day or two of rest.

James lamented his hubris, reflecting on it. While it was true Jessie had atrocious manners and refused to stay in bed, he’d also grown used to protecting himself from coming down sick by doing absolutely nothing. And she _was_ right about one thing—Meowth was healthy as a horsea, and probably didn’t fancy the idea of babysitting two sick humans while they selfishly took time off.

He rubbed at his temple with one free hand. The sinus headache he was nursing hadn’t turned into a migraine _just_ yet, if he could just hold out hope for a little longer—

A small sound snapped him out of his musings. Meowth stifled a sneeze into his paw, and for a moment, the entire Alola region went silent. Jessie froze in place, her shovel unceremoniously stuck in the air.

“Oh,” Meowth said, dropping his own to the floor. “Okay, den.”

Jessie turned around, her hair a fiery whip behind her.

“Oh _no!_ You two are _not_ bailing on me now!”

“You said as long as _one_ of us—”

“I’ve said my fair share of stupid things!” she fired back. “I’m sure _you_ can sympathize!”

Before the argument’s flames could truly kick back up, they were snuffed out to cinders. A relative hush seemed to fall over the trio as the sunlight above them disappeared, eclipsed by an ebony silhouette they were all too familiar with.

“Ha! What’d I say?” Meowth cackled, and Bewear dove forcefully into the half-hearted hole they’d dug, scooping the lot of them up in her big arms.

“ _Bwiiiiii!_ ” She screeched, not keen to drop her window-shattering cadence to spare her sick children the headache. It was just as well—she probably had _words_ for them for disobeying her orders to stay in and rest. With one swift movement, she launched herself off the ground and began her trek with them back to the den.

“No! Let go!” Jessie squirmed, fighting a losing battle. “I _refuse_ to needlessly take time off!”

“Funny ya say dat, ‘cuz ya takin’ it now,” Meowth said. “Time off…”

“...with a new blast.” James finished, already drifting.

* * *

Jessie made another attempt to stand while Bewear was humming fragments of her name to the other pokémon. Without meeting the woman’s foggy eyes, the normal-type wordlessly pushed her back into the leaves with her paw.

Wobbuffet and Mareanie were nodding in attention to the bigger pokémon, and Mimikyu glanced off to the side with an apathetic swish, far more disinterested. Bewear had been talking for only a few minutes, and in that time Jessie had tried to breach her defenses no fewer than four times. 

Wobbuffet saluted to Bewear and Stufful, a conviction far more present than his usual brand. He’d been wobbling across the den looking nervous for days, hovering around his trainer as though she’d break if he took his shuttered eyes off her. Before she’d even felt anything coming on, he saw right through her, a fact she wasn’t sure about how she felt.

Jessie, still sitting, leaned down to Meowth’s level, crossing her arms as she whispered to him.

“Hey, what are they plotting?”

“Bewear’s tellin’ ‘em to keep an eye on us ‘n’ make sure we’s don’t try t’ leave again,” Meowth translated half-heartedly, an arm slung over his eyes. “Says she’s gotta go grab some t’ings ‘n’ can’t be stayin’ around makin’ sure da human cubs don’t misbehave.”

“A tragedy, really,” James mumbled, rolling over.

It wasn’t long before the strong arm pokémon and her (non-human) cub headed out once more—slow, agonizing steps that Jessie watched through bleary blues. 

True to its fashion choices, Mimikyu had the attention span of a rodent. Jessie was sure it didn’t have much of a stake in whether or not she died of her head cold. Wobbuffet was far less apathetic, but even trying with all he was, she knew he wasn’t aggressive enough to stop her. Mareanie might’ve been a problem—but Jessie had a sneaking suspicion the brutal star didn’t entirely care for her wellbeing. Bewear’s form disappeared into the forest. Jessie made her move.

She heard Wobbuffet make a general noise of discontent as she stood, wavering on her feet as the room spun. _There’s still time,_ she lied to herself, pawing toward the light filtering in from the cave’s mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was lie around feeling restless.

Wind suddenly rushed through her hair, as though a bullet had been fired beside her, just barely grazing. Jessie froze, shivers running wild up her back. 

“Wuhh,” Bewear growled, suddenly present from one side of her, her eerily childish cadence making Jessie’s hair stand on end. 

“How did you…”

“Wuurr,” she said, simply, beady eyes glinting wordless threats into her adopted daughter’s heart.

Feeling she’d said enough, Bewear slowly turned around, this time with her gaze lingering on Jessie for a moment longer, as if to say _try me._ In any other scenario, Jessie would gladly—when it came to Bewear, she knew at what point to stop pressing her luck. Stufful gave an inappropriately light-hearted wave from atop its mother’s tail as they stepped out once more.

With a frustrated groan, Jessie fell dramatically backwards, only to be held aloft by Wobbuffet’s steady grip. She peered up at him pathetically, the weight of all her overexertion suddenly hitting at once. The stinging, burrowing itch that had been clawing at her sinuses since yesterday morning had refused to let up despite the fresh air around—crawling behind her cheeks and into her throat like an angry, restless beast. Eyelids growing too heavy to fight any longer, she decided perhaps a nap wouldn’t be so terrible.

Her pokémon watched her melt into phase two—where the denial ended and tyrannical reign would soon begin. It was always around this point in the day, where her foundation was worn down around her reddened nose and her mascara painted cloudy dots in the corners of her watering eyes. Gently, he lowered her down onto the bed of vegetation, whispering words of comfort in his own language as Jessie began to drift.

* * *

James cleared his throat, wincing at the sharpness that followed and the lack of relief it provided. The blazing heat of the tropical sun pressed down on him, oppressive and thick, and he dug his eyes into the crook of his arm, desperate for relief. The world was quiet, outside the den—pikipek in the trees hammering soothing rhythms across the palms, ocean waves far off in the distance, yungoos ducking into the forest’s cozy little pockets. The leaves beside him shuffled. He turned.

Meowth was out like a light, and had been for _hours._ On a kinder day in his life, he might’ve been happy that his friend was entirely unconscious in the wake of what was ailing the lot of them. Today, when he felt as though his head was sandwiched in between a kingler’s grip, there was little but bitter jealousy in his heart.

The world was quiet, outside the den. Inside, however, he couldn’t find himself a moment’s peace. Between his feline companion’s atrociously loud snoring, and the way Jessie seemed intent to _wake the dead_ with every sneeze, there was no way he was going to manage more than a few minutes of sleep. He cleared his throat again, winced again, and Jessie turned over to face him, annoyance on her brow.

“Would you _stop_ doing that?” she demanded, her voice growing spent as she gestured to Meowth. “It’s obviously not working, and we hardly need more noise!”

“Awfully rich advice coming from you,” James said. “Would it kill you to tone the dramatics down over there? You’re going to shatter all the glass in the base!”

“Yes, James, because I’m just having a lovely time over h— _here_ — _!_ ”

He rolled his eyes preemptively at her, feeling he’d won without much effort as Jessie fought her own biology with fluttering breaths and streaming eyes. On a kinder day in his life, again, he would’ve inwardly appreciated how unmistakably adorable she was—her squeaky, tiny sneezes up against her colossal beast of a personality, how they drew themselves out when she was down with a cold. Today, he simply rolled over and buried his face in the greenery as he willed himself to ignore her, a misguided attempt at finding his way into the grave.

Jessie caught her breath, and to James’ surprise, sounded equally resigned.

“There has to be medicine in the first aid kit,” she groaned with a liquid sniffle, sitting up. “Right?”

“...does there?”

“We talked about it, didn’t we?” Jessie said. “I swear, I recall it—”

“We did,” James said, raising his head a little to match her. “I commented on us running low on cough syrup, and you said you’d nick some when you got the chance.”

She was silent, the gears in her brain clunking forward ominously.

“Jess?”

Jessie simply blinked a few more times, trying desperately to keep any trace of emotion off her face.

“Jess, you replaced it, right?” James begged her vacant eyes. “You… you didn’t forget, _right?!_ ”

To his panic, she simply shot out of bed, tearing over to a corner of the base that could ostensibly count as a medicine cabinet. Desperately hoping her memory was deceiving her, Jessie pried the first aid kit apart, practically desecrating its contents as she made a mess of them.

“No, no, no, there has to be _something!_ ” she wailed, barely legible through the congestion in her voice. “There was still a third of a bottle full, what—?”

In the commotion, neither of them had noticed Meowth stirring. He flicked his ear nonchalantly, rubbing at one eye.

“What, da juice?” he mumbled. “I chugged da last of it while you bozos wasn’t looking. I’m sleepin’ dis plague off if it’s da last t’ing I do.”

Time paused, for only a moment. For the first time all day, the base was dead silent. Not a soul, human or pokémon, spoke in the stillness of the afternoon.

Jessie lunged. James quickly followed.

“‘The last thing you do’ is _right!_ ”

“You’d better hope your eight other lives come through for you!”

“In case you haven't noticed, we’ve only our _one!_ ” Jessie added.

Meowth’s fur bristled as they shook and throttled him in all manner of violence, but the haze that had settled in his head refused to relent. He unsheathed his claws in an attempt to fight back, but ended up flailing like a beached magikarp without a single hit, gone in the spinning of the room. Their presence lost somewhere in the chaos, Wobbuffet and Mareanie had shuffled back down to the lower levels, finding their trainers slowly sinking, back to back, to the floor in defeat.

“...is there _anything_ in the first aid kit, Jessie?” James whined, unsure if he truly wanted an answer. 

Equally forlorn, she took another look.

“There’s some allergy meds and…” her voice upturned. “...three different brands of activated charcoal?”

Jessie looked to James quizzically, and he simply gestured to Mareanie, as though the action spoke for itself.

“James, dear, that’s not how poison wor—”

“Please pick a brighter day to ruin my placebo,” James stopped her, before rising to his feet. “This won’t do at all, there’s no way I can survive this agony without being thoroughly sedated, I—”

The room swirled around him as soon as he stood, the sunlight above running another spike of pain straight through him. It pierced his skull, traveled to his core, made him cringe with a ferocity. For the first time all day, genuine worry painted itself on Jessie’s face.

“Sit down before you fall down,” she ordered. “If I’m not allowed to leave this putrid pit of pestilence, neither are you.”

The more time passed, the less he felt inclined to fight with her. It was just as well, anyways—his legs could barely support him in the wake of the illness, and he sunk back down to her level almost instantly, head perched pathetically on his partner’s shoulder. More out of habit than anything, Jessie dragged her palm to his forehead, her leader’s instinct kicking back up to take in her teammate’s condition. 

“What’s the damage, doc?” James mumbled sarcastically, not looking at her.

“Just take the antihistamines,” Jessie said. “We need all the help we can get.”

Knocked out on the forest floor, Meowth kept on snoring.

* * *

“Hey,” Jessie said, blearily staring at the ceiling. “We’re oudt of tissues.”

“Dat so?” Meowth asked. “I couldn’t tell from the mountain of used ones beside ya.”

“I don’t appreciatde the sarcasmb,” she narrowed her eyes. “Jambes has a mbountain, too, you kndow.”

“Jimmy’s got a durant-hill compared to yous! If it’s a contest, yous winnin’!”

“Please don’t make it one,” James begged.

Late into the day, they’d given up on trying to get back to bed. Between the humidity, the noise, and the proper lack of anything medicinal or the energy to prepare it, the trio had taken to simply huddling in a pile while their pokémon soothed fevers and offered support.

Mareanie was balanced on a beam above James’ head, currently, the underside of her front tentacles running a massage through his hair that was a different of tranquilizing from her usual. With every pounding blight that surged through his temple, she was there pulling metaphorical weeds from the lavender garden at her behest. James leaned into it harder than he’d ever leaned into anything, dreaming up ways to plunder every coral reef beneath the water’s surface and make her a candyshell throne.

“‘Ay, James,” Meowth’s voice snapped him out of the momentary lapse in annoyances. “Me ‘n’ Cubchoo over here could use summore tea.”

“Flattery won’t get you ndearly as far as you thingk.” Jessie narrowed her eyes.

“You ‘n’ I got different definitions o’—”

“I made the last batch!” James seethed, pathetically leaning further into his pokémon’s touch. “And the one before that as well! It’s you lot’s turn!”

“Oh, but I _cand’t!_ ” Jessie embellished, falling backwards in a dramatic heap. “The illness has mbe in its deepest throes, Jambes. I’mb simbly in ndo conditiodn…”

“Yeah, Jimmy, ya sure y’really wanna trust dese short legs o’ mine wit’ carryin’ drinks fa t’ree?” Meowth added. “‘Specially when da pretty little coin on my head’s so hot it could brand ya?”

“Why don’t I _toss_ you like a coin,” he responded. “And if you land heads up, perhaps _then_ I’ll make the tea again.”

“Look, you’re the least sick of all of us,” Jessie noted. “It’s ondly fair you pick up the slack.”

James narrowed his eyes at his team, his mouth hanging open slightly in a dutiful attempt to parse what, pray tell, the fuck they were talking about. 

“How on _earth_ have you come to that conclusion?”

“Yous barely made a sound in da last hour!”

“Ndary a combplaindt!” said Jessie. “Kndowing you, you’re probably already recovered by ndow.”

Utterly astounded at their deranged logic, James dug his fingernails into his scalp, sending Mareanie inching back with a nervous worry in her rasp of a voice. He mussed his hair up in frustration, practically shouting at the wooden ceiling hanging above.

“My throat feels like I ate a toxapex for _breakfast!_ ” he wailed. “I wasn’t aware we were having a bloody _contest_ to see who could make the others’ headache worse!”

James only barely got the last word out, the inhale catching in his throat and spilling back out in a violent round of coughs. Each one shot another brutal pang into his skull, and he tried with all he was to keep tears from his eyes. The light was suddenly _far_ too bright, the world far too loud and fuzzy. His vision blurred and swam, static on a broken television set.

There was little sympathy to be had beyond the veil. Meowth paid him no mind, curling further into himself with a childishly faux-cute pout in his voice.

“Bet mine hoihts worse, dough.”

“Oh my _god,_ ” James bristled, leaning back into his pokémon’s grasp with his arm tented across his gaze. “It’s not _measurable!_ ”

With his eyes covered and virtually useless, he didn’t see the look cross Jessie’s face. It was one he’d know if you described it to him, of course—the way her eyes lit up suddenly as an idea hit her, the way a devious smile slowly crept across her face in its place. Meowth peered into her, suddenly very nervous.

“I kndow what _is_ , though,” she said, pawing at the ground as she attempted to locate something. James, ever the fool, peeked out from under his makeshift shield to share an unsteady glance with Meowth.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, Jess?”

“I don’t recall where the therbmobmeter landed when I threw it,” she answered.

James sunk back into his arm. “Why did you _throw_ it?”

“I wasdn’t particularly fond of the ndumbers I saw,” Jessie said. “Aha! Here we are.”

Brandishing the tool as though it were a weapon, she held it up to the boys, who were still looking just a shade paler than the sickness alone could justify.

“Highest fever widns,” she grinned. “Loser brews the tea.”

* * *

When the sun had set and darkness crawled into the den, Bewear still hadn’t returned from her excursion. Whatever she was doing, the lot of them didn’t have time to fear how gratuitous it might be when she did eventually get back—far too caught up in the agony of their current situation to think too hard for too long.

Meowth was unconscious once more, his feline biology taking over and allowing him the ability to sleep through the end of the world if need be. The humans, again, were far less lucky.

The swell of antagonism that had been blanketing the base all day seemed to have died down as the Rockets periodically felt worse and worse. It would come to a head and resolve just as fast, a metronome flipping back and forth between genuine comfort in their shared suffering and utter indignation at each others’ symptoms. 

Jessie was shivering. The night rarely brought a chill in Alola, but tonight it was unbearable. Her arms were folded, her teeth were knocking against themselves, and the blankets piled on top of her were doing nothing to pull the bite from under her skin. She was getting to the point in the life-cycle of the illness where she didn’t entirely know her own name, her favourite colour, where she was—but she knew James was warm. He was _so_ delightfully warm. 

James was warm. He was absolutely _burning,_ clothes stuck to him and absolutely drenched in sweat. He’d yanked off his shirt in an attempt to assuage the heat, but every sense he had still remained aflame. Fires crackled in the back of his head, brought a dryness to his already tight throat he couldn’t speak through. He wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming or somewhere in the veil in-between, and when Jessie snaked her arm around him and buried her face in his shoulder he had to stop himself from wincing hard.

He whimpered, scooting away from her. Everything felt so overwhelming on his blazing skin—the leafy bed beneath him, itchy and abrasive and not at all the comfort he was used to, the sticky tropical heat beating down like an invisible sheet of metal, the deafening sound of dartrix hooting in the trees. Any other time, he’d lean into the prospect of snuggling up to her with a smile on his face. Right now, the last thing he needed was more sensation existing near him.

Letting out a weak, frustrated groan, Jessie moved in perfect tandem with him, hunting for warmth. He jostled her off again, and she pursued him again, and this strange sort of dance lasted for far too long before James was able to find his voice—weak imprint of its normal sound though it was.

“Jessie, _please._ ”

“I’m _cold,_ ” she whined.

“You’re a space heater. I’m on fire.”

“That’s nonsense,” Jessie mumbled, shimmying back over to him. “It’s f-freezing here.”

James sighed heavily, desperate to pull her out of whatever fever-induced chasm she had fallen into the wicked cracks of. There was a part of him that relented to the idea of explaining to an ex medical student how biology worked, one that fizzled out almost entirely the second he opened his mouth back up and felt how it seared his throat.

Fed up, he swiftly turned around on his side to ensure the embrace was broken, facing her now. The ghost of her eyes in the darkness almost made him lose his nerve—sapphires in dire need of polish, foggy and worn. Jessie looked almost childlike as he regarded her, drawing her arms up against her shoulders and utterly buried in the protective cover of her long red hair. His temper relented, if only a little.

“You’re _blazing_ with fever,” James said. “I can’t right now.”

“My fever b-broke,” Jessie said, staring intently up at him through red-rimmed eyes.

“It’s _absolutely_ come back.”

To that, she had no comeback, simply letting out a dull whine and curling back around him, her burning forehead pressed against his bare chest.

James’ sympathies were running thin, never in bountiful supply in the wake of his boundaries being pushed and not faring much better when he felt so agonizingly ill. His head was clogged tight and hadn’t gotten any better when the sun finally set, and the sleep deprivation was beginning to take its toll. He shoved her off this time, authoritative as he could be through what was left of his voice.

“Jessie,” he uttered. “Leave me _alone._ ”

It came out far more venomous than he intended despite the nervous crackle that edged its way into his words. Still, she was _impossible_ when she was under the weather—whether that meant denying sickness entirely and recklessly speeding forward, or demanding the world itself stop its turn to allow her its every resource in her recovery. 

James saw the flash in her eyes despite the glaze hanging over them, and he immediately wanted to take back every word, replace them all with a thousand sorries. Like it so often did, the hurt flickered up first—like she was about to cry, like she’d been hit. It fizzled out in an instant, tears evaporated in the blaze that followed.

Jessie said _nothing_ as she pulled away from him, a silence that struck immediate fear into James’ heart. She always had something to say. Worry hit him further when she stood up, shedding her blankets and wobbling on her feet. Feeling a hypocrite, he reached an arm out after her—grappling at the space between them with anxiety creasing his brow.

“Jess, I’m—” he stopped himself as she walked away. “Where are you going?”

Wobbuffet had stirred from beside her, practically bolting to her side when he noted how she shuddered and teetered her way out of bed. When Jessie spoke, it was to both of them—

“To the hot spring,” she spat, and then turned to James. “I’ll see to it I don’t _incinerate_ you there.”

The words hit him where it hurt, and he felt his body in a tug-of-war between malice and penance. He wanted to sit her down with his eloquence in tact and spin to her years of tales of being held down and smothered and shackled, make her understand that sometimes when his fever climbed this high and the head-splitting ache overtook him he was afraid it wouldn’t be her he saw. He wanted to tell her these standards were a precaution, that he simply couldn’t do that to her, darling that she’d always been to him. In so many other ways, he felt he deserved exactly what she’d given him.

James shut his eyes as she and her pokémon shuffled off to the shallow pool outside the den, confident that Wobbuffet could do a much better job looking after her than he could in his current state. Meowth was asleep. Jessie was in good hands. Alola breathed quietly while the sun traveled elsewhere. Regardless of all else, he could at least bet on finally getting some sleep.

He drifted into kinder thoughts, bedtime stories he told himself in an attempt to quiet his racing thoughts. Somewhere along the way, the sweat soaking his face started to feel a little less suffocating, and he brushed off the strands of lavender stuck to his forehead like glue. The blanket was seeming like a good idea right about now, the leaves below him feeling like a bed again. He was slipping into some place where he couldn’t feel the sore ache behind his eyes, the corrosive haze eating up his throat. James breathed deeply and evenly in the quiet, head swimming and fuzzy. Oh, this felt _good._

“— _chiew!_ ”

His eyes snapped open, the reverie he was being pulled into utterly shattered by the sound of his partner letting out a particularly strident sneeze. And then another. And _another._

Ten seconds short of screaming at the top of his lungs, James sat up sharply and relinquished all ideas of getting some rest. The room spun around him, but the ache beneath his skin was beginning to grow paradoxically restless. He let the blankets slink off of him, hoping to at least get up and move around a little—but the moment the night air hit his shoulders, a switch somewhere flipped that cast its embrace frigid and unforgiving. James shuddered fiercely, teeth pressed together.

Feeling it recompense for how he’d spoken to Jessie, his thoughts naturally drifted back to her. He sighed, resigning himself to them. 

_Jessie has the right idea,_ the words blurred together in his baking brain. Hoping she’d allow him space near her after he’d bitten her head off, he trudged outward toward the spring.

On his way there he passed Wobbuffet, who was wobbling back inside the den with a look of purpose etched across his face. Relief seemed to wash over him when he noticed James, and he slowed his stride down a little as he made his way back. It was clear he didn’t like the idea of Jessie being left alone.

James pressed forward, not at all bothering kicking off his shorts as he neared the hot spring. Jessie had her back turned to him, too wrapped up in how rotten she was feeling to hear his footsteps, pressing a hand towel against her eyes in an attempt to block out the universe. 

He knew there was no way he could approach without startling her, which is why he was extra nervous when she didn’t respond to him with her usual half-shriek. As soon as he slipped into the water, his mouth hung open to begin a round of apologies—but Jessie beat him to it, taking the towel from her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding exhausted. It was succinct, which spoke to how awful she was feeling, so he elected to carry the weight of it.

“You’re fine, Jess,” James said. “I shouldn’t have been so needlessly harsh.”

“You weren’t,” Jessie said, leaning her head on his shoulder gingerly. This time, James didn’t pull away, and so she scooted closer to him as she spoke.

“It’s as you said, I’m patient zero here,” she continued. “The least I could do is be a little sympathetic to dragging my whole team down with me.”

James laughed, wrapping his arm around her bare waist and drawing his partner closer. The water was _perfect_ on the dull pain eating at the pair of them, the steam rising up and loosening up the fullness in both their foggy heads.

“It’s my own fault as well, dear,” he said. “I was the one sleeping coiled around you, and borrowing your makeup, and, um…”

A blush crept across his face as errantly tiptoed back into the scene—their clothes dirty and hair mussed up from a particularly bad blast-off, Meowth and the others scattered who knows where on the island, a nasty rainstorm keeping them sequestered inside a cave that was not at all the one they were used to. Her lips on his and her fingers dug into his scalp and their legs tangled in a desperate mess—

James exhaled tension, trying not to become lost in the image.

“My hubris was _my_ downfall, you see.”

Jessie could tell by the look in his eye there wasn’t a trace of regret despite everything, and realized only a moment later that some part of her felt the same—lovesick fool that she was, she wouldn’t mind catching a nasty cold or ten if it meant she could kiss this man for the rest of her life.

Bringing a dripping hand up to paw her fingers tenderly through his hair, her voice was a half-whisper.

“Well, we’ve nothing to lose now, you know,” Jessie said, turning slowly to face him. James suppressed a shudder as her fading manicure brushed his scalp, an endorphin rush so divine he easily forgot he was unwell. Jessie was looking toward him—never directly at him, exactly where he was comfortable—with eyes that asked rather than told, an unspoken apology he heard all the same. _God,_ he adored her, all the ways she turned him back into a blushing teenager stumbling through nervous firsts.

“...a-are you still cold, Jess?”

To that, she narrowed her eyes, the devious grin on her face sharpening to an almost hungry one. Ripples in the water lapped around the two of them as she slowly, _teasingly_ crawled onto his lap, a palm at his face as they sat nose-to-nose.

“That depends, James,” she purred, her breath hot against his cheek. “If I were to say no you wouldn’t warm me back up now, would you?”

“Now, now, dearest,” he leaned in, an award-winning smile. “What ever gave you that idea?”

Within Jessie there always existed two forces—the one that dared her to be alluring and calculated, and the one that so often told her to throw caution to the wind and follow her gut. It was the second that eventually won out, then, and she banked her silver tongue with the hopes that it would be put to better use pushed fiercely up against her partner’s own.

James let out an almost needy whine as she kissed him, and between the heat of the bath and the electric current crackling through the pair, everything else seemed to blur away. Small waves ran across the spring’s surface as Jessie leaned in harder, gripping onto him as though her life depended on it. With little between them but the temperate waters, her breasts were flush against his own bare chest, her arms wrapped tightly around the back of his neck.

Jessie deepened the kiss, far more aware of what she’d gotten herself into than her dearest partner. It was _adorable_ how he squirmed beneath her, breaths of balmy air punctuated with those longing little sounds he sang oh so well. Alola existed in an intoxicating state of being that had pulled the two of them somehow further into each other’s arms, chaste touches and friendly gazes turned hot and heavy and wanting. Whatever spell the region had placed them under, they’d elected that they could deal with the aftermath of it at a much later date.

She broke away from him for a moment to catch her breath, a gulp of humid air that hitched into a squeak when James pressed a line of hot kisses down her neck and teasingly traced his thumb across her nipple. Jessie dug her fingers into his scalp in one swift motion, and the fierceness of the gesture drove him completely wild with want. The noises she was making were _divine,_ heavy with desire—and when he pulled away to meet her eyes, they were just short of clouded over with lust.

“We needed a day off,” she said nearly breathless, trailing her fingers down his chest. “I’ve been _aching_ for this.”

“Me too,” he whispered, diving back in and suckling at her pulse. “ _Desperately._ ”

James punctuated the word by traveling lower, planting more teasing kisses across her bare breasts, agony in every absence when his lips pulled away. Jessie was on the verge of begging him to speed things up—her fire only banked by her want to stay in control—when he finally took her in his mouth, rolling his tongue over a nipple that was taut and desperate for more attention.

A jolt of pleasure ran through her all at once, and she bit back the wanting squeal that was trying with all it was to push itself out of her. Caught in the hazey crossfire somewhere between fever and pleasure, she wrapped her arm back around James’ neck and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He failed to quiet himself the same, a desperate moan of ecstasy hummed around her skin, lost in the sensation of being at her mercy.

“ _G-God_ , don't stop—” Jessie whispered, arching her back in an attempt to press herself harder against him. “There’s my _good boy_.”

James willed himself not to lose form entirely when the praise left her lips, the words doing nothing to bank his own flames. Instead, he moved his tongue faster, trailing shaking fingers down between his partner’s legs in a bid to hear them again. Even in the steaming waters of the spring, he could tell she was soaking wet, and the idea that a goddess like Jessie let him into a realm where he could have that effect on her almost felt like a dream.

He picked up a steady pace rolling his fingertips over her velvety folds, making sure to give every inch of her the attention she truly deserved. Jessie gripped him tighter as he slipped a finger inside, and he knew if she had her way she’d be squealing her throat rawer than it was and wailing words so dirty they'd make a trubbish blush into the darkness of the night. She fought the impulse, pressing the high-pitched moans against her teeth, biting her lip with a ferocity as she whispered in his ear.

“Good boy,” she repeated, knowing exactly what it did to him. “Fuck me _just_ like that—I'm so _close_ , James—”

She was barely holding on, now, riding his fingers the best she could in her weakened state, shifting the waters around them and stifling moans into her partner’s lavender tresses. James was utterly torn, every time they did this—between wanting to draw things out and worship her for hours, and wanting to bring her to her peak as quickly and as often as humanly possible. Every gasp of his name was like electricity in his blood, and he was certain by now he could get off just _hearing_ the way his partner squeaked and moaned and writhed at his touch. It was an honour to be at her service, now and always.

Jessie's breathing went sideways, her voice discordant and doused in desperation as she grinded and squirmed against James. One last jolt of his thumb across her swollen clit, and he felt her whole body clench around his fingers, as if she were trying to draw him further in. She buried her face in his hair, long and sharpened nails a mere moment away from drawing blood as they gripped his shoulders. She couldn’t hold back entirely, awash in the feeling of her climax hitting all at once—and a desperate shriek pushed past her painted lips before she went formless in her partner’s arms.

James reluctantly pulled his lips away from her skin and his hand from her pulsing heat, grazing her most sensitive area on his way out and relishing in the needy squeak she emitted. He brought a palm to her hair, wild and messy with the chaos of the day, and began smoothing tangles out.

“All warm now?” he asked, tenderly.

“Utterly aflame,” Jessie stuttered out woozily, muffled against him.

He smiled contentedly, drawing her closer. Even in the darkness, he could see the post-coital sparkle that always cropped up in her eyes, a welcome change from the feverish glaze he’d been staring into for days. The pink across her cheeks was looking far more lively, setting his heart at ease rather than racing it with worry.

Jessie pulled apart from him slightly, angling her head up to inquire—

“Do you…?”

James shook his head wordlessly, a calm smile still stuck to his face. “Not to put on the affectation of a distant housewife, but I’ve a nasty headache, still.”

“Poor dearest,” she cooed, in a way she so rarely did. “Do remind me to reward you _later_ , then.”

The purr in her voice and the ravenous look in her eyes wasn’t doing much to quell the burning coil that twisted in his stomach, but he knew without a doubt that he didn’t have the energy to be anything beyond a pillow princess, and Jessie deserved far better than that. The instinctual lean he was pulled into against her was broken by a prickle in his nose, and he pulled off to the side with a loud, chesty sneeze. The single act sapped the rest of his energy in an instant, and when he slunked backward pathetically he noticed Jessie in perfect sync with him, on the tail end of her own and with the heel of her hand pressed against her nose. A shared look, a sigh of resignation, and a weak plea through weary voices—

“I’m ready for this to be over,” they both said at once, inches away from sinking into the humid depths.

James pulled himself upward, intent to rest his head on the earth surrounding them and at least take in the glinting Alolan cosmos as he perished from this mortal coil. His head never hit the grass, though, and it wasn’t the stars he saw above, but Bewear’s striking gaze as she cradled his aching temple in her paw.

 _Well, I'm certainly glad you showed up now and not a moment_ _sooner..._ he mused, colour on his cheeks.

Jessie shifted from beside them, lazily looking over to take in the sight. Meowth was thrown over her shoulder, looking half-alive. The fighting-type trailed her free paw up to James’ forehead, checking him wordlessly. His voice was drained and deepened when it came out, its tone a dull pitch to match his energy.

“Please tell me you brought the name-brand cough syrup.”

“Bweh,” the pokémon said simply, lowering his head to the forest floor and quietly plopping Meowth down into the rippling waters.

“Hey,” the cat said, barely awake. “S’it ovah yet?”

Neither of his companions had the mind nor the vitality to answer. Instead, Jessie wrapped her free arm around him, electing to silently enjoy the feeling of friends on either side of her.

Bewear chattered down at her—quieter than Jessie had ever heard the pokémon—and presented her with something, blurry in Jessie’s peripheral. 

“...for me?” she asked.

“Wuu,” Bewear nodded, and Jessie took the drink from the fighting-type’s paws.

It was one of Oranguru’s—that much, they could tell just by looking at it. Sloshing around inside a coconut shell, the top of it perfectly singed off with psychic embers, peppermint leaves resting on its surface. Bewear passed one to James, then to Meowth, patting them softly on the head as she did so. 

Sitting up straighter, the three of them shared a curious look through equally bleary eyes before taking a sip. The flavour that hit was… _hard to define,_ but it wasn’t bad. A combination of sweet and tart and cooling all at once, coating their aching throats and making their heads whirr in a way that felt lighter than the fog they’d been battling for what felt like far too long. Whatever it was, it was working _wonders._

A chill at James’ temple jolted him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Bewear then gingerly lowering ice packs onto his teammates’ heads. It was always interesting to see the polarity she worked in—even when she loved, it was with a bone-breaking ferocity, spine-shattering hugs and food shoved their way at lightning speed. If Bewear was taking her time in being careful, he mused, it was clear she’d grown worried enough for them to defy even herself.

“Bwurr?” she cooed down at the Rockets, angling her head to observe their collective reaction. 

“What?” Jessie said, intent to get back to her drink.

“She’s askin’ how we's feelin'.” 

A blush cropped up on Jessie’s cheeks, the same fluster she never did manage to avoid in times like this. It was a strange new life, to be dropped into the hands of anyone who looked after her, sweetly or not. She thanked her lucky stars she could pass the colour off as a side-effect of the fever, every time.

“Better, I think,” James said, leaning back once more so that this time, finally, he could see the stars. He sucked down the last of his drink with an undignified slurp, reveling entirely in the balm as it soothed his pounding head.

“Yeah,” Meowth agreed, sinking into the water. “Better.”

Bewear looked to their third, chirping her name again. Jessie ducked back into the cover of the coconut shell, hands cupped around it as she muttered a response.

“...better. Thank you.”

The strong-arm pokémon smiled with her eyes. Normally, the golden glimmer within them was foreboding—an accent that signaled a quick dodge to the side, lest she get a hold of them and hug until their souls came loose. This time, Bewear simply crooned out a satisfied half-tune, crawling into the spring beside her human cubs and motioning for Stufful to do the same. It somersaulted into the water with a muted _plop_ , and Bewear pulled her own drink seemingly out of nowhere and sipped at it, content.

With their caretaker keeping dutiful watch, the temptation to drift was all too much. Under the sprawling blanket of stars, warm in the steaming waters, lost in the lulling sound of Stufful doing aimless laps around the shallow pool. The lot of them leaned into one another, the urge to complain a second longer dying on their collective tongue. Of course, no one _liked_ to be ill, but perhaps the presence of those one held most dear allowed room to grin and bear it until the rain clouds passed.

Beneath the water’s surface, Jessie laced her fingers with James’ own.

**Author's Note:**

> realized like none of my sickfics lately have been shippy. why. 
> 
> 1\. i cant write porn but thanks for watching me try dfhgdg  
> 2\. sorry all my sickfics focus mainly on jessie. i'm gay


End file.
